


Meanwhile, there is a Flowershop AU

by Kamari333



Series: Ebott is a Multiverse [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Outertale (Undertale), Chronic Illness, Chronic Pain, Foreboding, Gen, Language of Flowers, Muteness, Sign Language, osteoporosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-10-06 07:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20503112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333
Summary: Archiving fromPillowfort.Originally a request from BlueMoonFox to see more of my interpretation of the Outertale Brothers (and incorporate their OC into a story), it fit seamlessly into the EMV canon.Takes place sometime during the events of Happily Ever Laughter. A certain florist is given a sense of foreboding.





	Meanwhile, there is a Flowershop AU

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueMoonFox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMoonFox/gifts).

Impulse picked up the latest little box of tulips, the trimmers in his hand moving smoothly to cut the angle that would help keep the flowers alive. Every trim made his chest throb in sympathy, knowing it was but a stay against the inevitable. A morose thought, acknowledging that such a beautiful, vibrant thing was literally dying in his arms. He put it in the preservative vase, in water crisp with a familiar chill. At least it would be (mostly) painless, and surrounded by loved ones. No flower would wilt alone in his care.

Moving to trim the rest in the order, Impulse carefully arranged them in the display vase, then scooped the vase up to replace it in the front of the store. The weight of the vase, even filled with water, was slight, however it felt massive in his hands. Impulse grit his teeth, stubbornly carrying the precious vessel out of the greenhouse and into the store proper, where he placed it in the little fridge with the rest of its kind. Another dozen ready for sale, to be used and discarded as tribute to the celebration of an infinitesimal moment. _Ah, the mortality of flora, foundation of the divine aesthetic!_

Impulse should really stop thinking about it. The flowers were pretty. That was all that mattered, right?

He wished he worked in a conservatory instead. Or at least a farm. A shame this was all he could find in his limited radius of medically sanctioned activity, or at least all he could find that let him go home before sunset. He should be grateful. Impulse _was_ grateful. The job was not exclusively depressing, after all...

The door bell chimed, drawing Impulse's attention from his pensive brooding. The cashier, a human in a brunette ponytail, waved in greeting to the latest in a long yet sparse line of customers. A quivering ball of lazuline fur, pudgy and skittish, crept hesitantly into the shop, vulpine ears laid back flat with anxiety. Impulse waited patiently, eavesdropping on the expectant conversation.

"Hello. I would like to purchase a gift, but I do not know what would be... appropriate?" The fox spoke with an unfamiliar accent, clear and crisp as the ice in which she likely felt at home.

"What kind of gift?" The cashier asked, gesturing for Impulse to come closer and listen better. He knew the drill, ambling closer in a casual way that most folks found unassuming.

"It is for a friend. Not a very close friend. But maybe one day? It is a thank you. For their hard work. And for their kindness."

"Our arranger can make a bouquet to best exemplify what you want to convey, or you can select any individual flowers." The cashier smiled. Impulse appreciated that smile. Most of his coworkers were open minded and understanding (except Tiffany, but really, fuck her), and this one was particularly nice about helping him with customer service. It made the fact he couldn't talk anymore less of a problem.

Ten minutes later, Impulse is wrapping up a lovely bouquet of pink irises, yellow chrysanthemums, and peach roses in full bloom, which the vulpine monster shyly pays for and accepts from him with averted eyes. He signed out, "have a nice day," in hands, even though he doubted they would understand.

The fox smiled back before taking her leave, clutching the little bundle as tight as she dared for fear of damaging the flowers. Impulse opened the door for her, and waved as she made her way down the sidewalk, around the corner and out of sight.

That was the best part of his job; seeing someone happy with the flowers. He liked choosing just the right ones to help them express their feelings. He hoped the message got across to their friend.

Impulse could not linger in the doorway all morning, however. With a soundless little puff of air that was his equivalent of a sigh, Impulse went back inside, checking on the lilies before heading into the back to grab refills for the gift card racks. They were running low again. Tiffany probably forgot to restock them during her shift yesterday, which meant he had to do it.

The front bell rang again just as Impulse was coming out of the back with the boxes of cards. He looked up to see who it was, only to be shoved into a mental pit of internal screaming because _lo and behold, there was his brother._

"THERE YOU ARE- YES HELLO HUMAN I SEE YOU WORKING THE FRONT DESK." Orbit signed, first to Impulse, then to his waving coworker. Impulse didn't know why he bothered, since the poor human did not understand either hands or ASL (Impulse had taken to carrying around sticky notes and pens to communicate, as inconvenient as it was). Orbit turned back to Impulse (favoring his right side, which meant he'd likely suffered another stress fracture). "THERE YOU ARE. I THOUGHT YOU WERE STAYING HOME TODAY."

Impulse wanted to respond with the fact he had left a sticky note, which said quite clearly that they had called him in to cover for Tiffany again. However, his hands were quite full. He carried the box over to the gift card racks.

Orbit continued to sign at him. "IT USED TO BE YOU GOT LAZIER AND LAZIER EVERY DAY, BUT NOW YOU ARE JUST USING WORK AS AN EXCUSE TO MOPE ABOUT AND NOT DO ANYTHING OR SOCIALIZE OR GO OUTSIDE OR HAVE ANY KIND OF EARTH EXPERIENCE AT ALL!! ONE WOULD ALMOST THINK YOU DO NOT EVEN LIKE IT ON EARTH- ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?? WITH YOUR EYES?? I DON'T SEE YOU LISTENING TO ME."

Impulse set the boxes down. "bro. i can't work and talk at the same time," he signed at his brother.

"YOU ALSO CANNOT WORK ALL DAY AND THEN HIDE IN YOUR ROOM AT NIGHT AND GET ANY BETTER."

"going out at night isn't going to make us better. it's not safe." Impulse could mention how he knew his brother had been sneaking out after curfew. He could mention how dangerous it was to be going out like that in their condition, without any support or a safety net. He could mention how he knew Orbit has been smiling strangely at his phone and cutting his therapy sessions off early. He didn't. Instead he knelt down (careful, controlled, slow so as not to bruise or crack his patella again), and opened the box to restock the cards on the racks.

Orbit made that irritated little wheeze, a whistle of air traveling across his palate. He started signing again rapidly. "NOT GOING OUT IS NOT GOING TO MAKE US BETTER EITHER. WE NEED TO ADAPT. AND YOU. ARE NOT. ADAPTING."

Impulse was adapting just fine. He's up to 4 hours of unsupported mobility. He didn't bother to set his work aside to say as much, especially since he knew Orbit was well aware of his progress.

It was probably for the best that he did not try to retort, since the next moment would have invalidated any argument he made. Impulse's vision swam, fuzzing out at the edges in awful darkness. His back gave out, sending him falling forward on top of the box, which was probably a good thing since it kept his skull from connecting with the floor, although it meant his full weight was pressed into his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Impulse had the knee jerk reaction to panic lingering like a caged animal along the peripheral of his thoughts, pervasive and nauseating and illogical, but he just didn't have the energy to extend on it. Instead, he focused on moving his arms into position to provide support, wincing at the strain, and slowly relieved the pressure off of his ribs until he could breathe again.

Orbit had been hovering, signing so fast that Impulse just couldn't keep up (which might have been commentary more on Impulse's cognitive processes, than Orbit's speed or intelligibility). Impulse was grateful that Orbit was following their agreement not to try and pick each other up; Impulse was sure he was still way over his brother's weight limit.

Righting himself, Impulse focused on his magic, on making it move, on making it work and flow and not pool in his soles (or in this case his patella) uselessly. He was pretty sure that the ache still persisting meant he'd either bruised or fractured his ribs again. That, or his scar was acting up.

"CAN YOU HEAR ME??" Orbit asked for what must have been the umpteenth time.

Impulse nodded, even though it made his head spin. He couldn't quite right himself yet and his hands were full keeping his weight distributed.

Orbit went still, his expression intense but unreadable. Impulse hated that face, how it was cold and cruel and almost hostile. He knew his brother was only upset and frustrated that Impulse was unwell, and that he was virtually powerless to assist, but familiarity did nothing to subdue the discontent.

Impulse righted himself again, sighing in relief as he once more regained control of his magic. "bro. can we maybe talk _after_ work?" Impulse's hands shook a little as he signed. He was just glad that his coworker couldn't see them from over here, that there were no other customers in the store to bear witness to that little episode of his. The last thing Impulse wanted was to cause a scene.

Orbit weighed his options carefully (calculating, as he always had been – truly his little brother was a force to be reckoned with, and Impulse was struck again with how grateful he was that Orbit cared about him, in his own way). "YES. THAT MAY BE BEST. I SHOULD NOT HAVE BOTHERED YOU AT WORK. BUT WHEN YOU COME HOME, WE WILL TALK. BECAUSE I WORRY ABOUT YOU."

"i know bro. you're the coolest."

"I AM AWARE." Orbit hovered for a few more moments, likely checking that Impulse hadn't hurt himself (Orbit always became so upset when Impulse wasn't well), then pressed a soft forehead nuzzle to the top of Impulse's head and took his leave.

Impulse didn't move again until he heard the bell chime, signaling that his brother was actually gone. Then he sagged, rubbing his chest absently to wipe away the ache. He definitely had another fracture. He'd deal with it during his break.

For now, Impulse had cards to restock and flowers to arrange. He would have plenty of time for whatever hair-brained scheme his brother had come up with to distract him with later.

**Author's Note:**

> A comment pointed out to me that these new boys aren't very well known or established.
> 
> Impulse is the Outertale Sans. He's 5'11"  
Orbit is his brother, Papyrus. He's 7'5"
> 
> They are tall and suffer from issues with their magic since they grew up in low gravity conditions. <3 They're both mute and very fragile.


End file.
